


Enemy Mine

by rivendellrose



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Alien Culture, Aliens, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-08-04 18:11:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16351604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rivendellrose/pseuds/rivendellrose
Summary: Katrina Cornwell returns to Qo'noS for a diplomatic visit to the new chancellor, and finds that her feelings for her former enemy -- and her former enemy's feelings for her -- are a lot more complicated than she would have expected.





	Enemy Mine

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [gaslightgallows](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hearts_blood/pseuds/gaslightgallows) and [nenya_kanadka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nenya_kanadka/pseuds/nenya_kanadka) for listening to my nattering and flailing about this fic (and about the characters and actresses it's based on...), both online and in person, and patiently tolerating my distressed wails during the months when it was stuck in various draft forms and I couldn't seem to un-stick it. 
> 
> This was written before the S2 promos came out, so... expect no canon-compliance regarding L'Rell's new hair and wardrobe choices. I'm sure I'll find something to do with that later, once I've had a better ogle.

L’Rell looked up as Kat entered her personal quarters, and dismissed the guard who had accompanied her to the door with a jerk of her chin, before giving Kat a long and thoughtful looking-over. "So, admiral,” she said at last. “You are still alive."

Kat smiled. That was starting to feel like an in-joke between them, particularly given L'Rell's drawling delivery of the line. How strange, to think that a year and a half ago she would have said – and meant it – that she couldn't read Klingon facial expressions, and now she could easily see the amused glitter in L'Rell's eyes, the wry quirk to her lips, and the low rumble of amusement in her voice.

"So are you." Kat looked the new chancellor of the Klingon empire up and down. "This time I think that's the greater achievement."

L'Rell bared her teeth in a grin that was also a challenge to her absent foes. "This time," she agreed. "It is amazing what the knowledge that our world will die if they kill me can accomplish."

"I'm not glad that the situation went that far before we could find a way to peace, but I'm glad we got there." Kat looked around the chancellor’s chamber, which was empty but for the two of them. It was beautiful, actually – not just in the stark, dangerous way she had expected, but with a deeply detailed, filigreed style that she could see reflected in the Klingons' armor and their ships, but still had a hard time connecting to their way of life. Or at least what she knew of it.

That was the whole point of this visit, though, wasn't it? Trying to learn how to see each other as something other than mere enemies. Learning to accept and even love another culture for all its contradictions and strangeness. It would take time to reach that place with the Klingons, because there was so much difference, and so much baggage. But when she looked at L'Rell, Kat had a feeling it was a possibility. And she had a sense that L'Rell was thinking something similar.

"So, we have both survived the battle to celebrate it," L'Rell said. "On my world, that calls for a drink."

That was a welcome point of commonality. Kat grinned. "Mine, too."

"Good." L'Rell lifted a bottle from a shelf, and two fang-shaped glasses with it. The liquor she poured into them was as dark and red as pomegranate juice. "Blood wine," she said as she handed over one of the glasses.

"Literally, or figuratively?"

"Why call it so if it were not?"

"Humans have a lot of odd phrases for things that aren't literally true. As sort of a joke, sometimes, or a misconception that got calcified into language. Or just a turn of phrase someone thought was clever."

"We have no such thing. Klingons call things as they are. Whether in the exact sense or the poetic," L'Rell added after a moment's further consideration.

"Ah. So you have poetry, then." 

"A great deal of it." L'Rell raised her glass. "I will have some sent to you, if you like."

"You can't recite something for me right now?"

L'Rell's eyes narrowed, and her head tipped slightly, seemingly curious. "I did not think--"

"I was joking, mostly," Kat reassured her. "I only know a few poems by heart, and I don't suppose any of them would be appropriate here. I'd be happy to trade a few selections with you, though, if you're interested." Perhaps a good translation of _Beowulf_ , she thought, or _The Ramayana._ Most of the later war poetry that she knew followed more along the lines of the post-war poets of England, and she doubted that Owen's "Dulce et Decorum Est" would speak well to a Klingon audience. They seemed more interested in the original sentiment than the later interpretations of 'that old lie.' "I could send you some music, too, if you'd like. A sampling from a wide variety of Human cultures."

"Yes. I could send you some in return, as well. Perhaps even some opera, if you think you would be interested."

"I would," Kat replied, and told herself firmly that it wasn't a lie. Even if she didn't enjoy it from an aesthetic standpoint, she was sure it would be... an intellectually invigorating experience. And the light of enthusiasm in L’Rell’s eyes told her that it would be a connection, even if she had to struggle to find things to say about it.

"But you must promise to listen at least once to it without your translating machines active,” L’Rell told her. “They would murder the sound and the spirit of the songs."

"You're a fan of opera, then?" Kat asked, intrigued.

L'Rell shrugged. "Not so great as many, but I enjoy it. I was… intrigued, to find that Humans have a similar concept.”

"From Mr. Tyler?" Kat tried to hide her amusement. On admittedly very brief acquaintance, the thought didn't fit her mental image of him. 

L'Rell's eyes glittered from the same thought, it seemed. "He provided me with a small sampling of Federation music, when I asked if your people had such things. A few recordings of opera were included, though they were not to his taste."

"Were they to yours?" 

"Not especially. But it may take time, I have learned, to grow used to things that are different from the known."

"I've learned that, too." Kat watched L'Rell thoughtfully. "I'd be happy to provide you with a broader collection to sample, if you'd like."

Cautious, but visibly intrigued, L’Rell inclined her head. “I would.”

“I’ll do that this evening, then.”

“After we have had our wine and celebration.”

“Of course.” Since that seemed to be the end of any polite excuses she could have used to get out of doing so, Kat sipped from her glass. The wine was… well, it was unusual. Though there had clearly been sugars of some kind added to fuel fermentation, the metallic tang of the liquor told her that L’Rell hadn’t been joking – real blood had clearly been involved in its creation. She hoped it had just been the blood of an animal. 

The food laid out in L’Rell’s chambers seemed at least to have been calibrated somewhat toward an Anglo-American Human’s palate. What looked more or less like a particularly nasty boar had been roasted whole and laid out on a platter, and L’Rell allowed her to take her choice of its parts, seeming only faintly amused when Kat chose to cut from the haunch rather than taking her pick from the head or organ meats that, judging by the way they were displayed, might be considered some of the more high-prestige cuts. She did insist – with the air of a host pushing a valued guest to try the dessert – on Kat taking a portion of the heart, however, and ribbed her fondly over the bland, ‘dead’ food that had been forced on her during her stay on the Discovery.

“At least we fed you regularly,” Kat reminded her as they finished. “I’m glad to find Klingon hospitality is a bit more generous to a guest than a prisoner.”

“Significantly so, I hope.” L’Rell held out a plate of small, faintly gelatinous dark red squares.

“What is it?” Kat took a bite. _Oh, God..._ The texture was something like a soft fudge, but the flavor was more like a black pudding she’d had once, mixed with a very hot chile powder. It was… terrible wasn’t the word. There had to be a word stronger than that…

“I’m not sure of the best translation of the name. It is an old Klingon delicacy which takes a great deal of time and effort to prepare. Ash Tyler said that in your language he would call it ‘blood fudge.’”

“Mmm.” Kat pressed her lips firmly together, coughed, and forced a smile as she tried to swallow. It would not be a good diplomatic move to spit out a delicacy fed to her by the chancellor of the Klingon Empire. Particularly not when she was clearly doing her best to be friendly. “It’s certainly... unique.”

L’Rell frowned, then seemed to steady herself. “If you don’t enjoy it, I would understand. I have not liked much of what I have had of Human food.” 

“It… might be a little strong for my tastes,” Kat admitted. 

L’Rell stood and gesturing them away from the table. “Perhaps instead we could walk the gardens. I believe the venomous night lily is blooming.”

Kat wanted to laugh, but she couldn’t have said whether at the name of the flower, the chancellor, herself, or the entire situation. “Wine and chocolate are bad enough,” she muttered, “but flowers might be going too far.”

L’Rell frowned again. “I am not sure what you--”

“I'm sorry. Another joke. Sort of. A bad one.” Kat winced and dropped onto the nearby bench with a sigh. “I just realized how all of this would look to an outsider. A human outsider, anyway. Flowers and chocolate are basically shorthand for courtship, among my people."

"I am aware of this."

Kat's attention snapped back to L'Rell. "Are you."

"Yes."

A number of details about the evening slid into a new order in Kat's mind. "And is that what you meant here?"

L'Rell's lip quirked in that wry smile once again, and her eyes glittered with _more_ than amusement as she knelt in front of the bench where Kat was seated. The leather of her armor creaked as she did, and its shine picked up the same gleam as her eyes. "Yes."

Oh. "I... wasn't expecting that," Kat admitted.

"Is it unwelcome?"

That... was a hard question to answer. "It's... complicated. You and I aren't here just as individuals.” Kat folded her hands on her lap. “We represent both our governments, and our species. A peace process is complicated enough without getting personal relationships involved, and I would not want to jeopardize what's happening here, or risk sending both our peoples hurtling back to war on a whim."

"And if it were only the two of us as individuals…" L'Rell pressed.

Kat thought of the click of her badge on the table in not-her-Gabriel's quarters. "I'm not sure that's something that can happen. Setting aside our positions... that's not an easy thing to do."

“You have still not answered my question.”

“Are you going to get your rack of pointy tools, if I don’t?”

The scarred gray face broke into a smirk. “Only if you ask very nicely.”

Kat's breath caught in her throat for an instant, then she burst out laughing. 

“Oh, God,” she said when she could finally breathe again, “I can’t believe I’m having this conversation. You shouldn't joke about that kind of thing, you know."

L’Rell looked faintly insulted. "You laughed."

"Yes, but... Oh, forget it." Kat shook her head. She'd clearly lost the high ground on that point. 

"You were more honest back then, when we were enemies.” L’Rell shook her head, visibly annoyed and disappointed, and that… well, it wasn’t a good feeling, seeing that. “Now you are too concerned, too much the admiral and not enough the woman Katrina. If you were only her, and I was only L'Rell, then what would you say?"

"If the two of us were alone, without whole planets hanging in the balance? I don't know. I can't... Maybe it's because I'm not as young as you are. Or maybe I'm just not as brave as you think I am.” Kat thought of all the things that had happened since that day. 

She didn’t feel as brave as she’d been back then, certainly. She also felt about a decade older. “But I've learned it's... not wise to set aside responsibilities just because you want something."

"It is dangerous," L'Rell agreed. "It may also be worthwhile. And who is to say that what is learned might not bring our people closer together."

Kat snorted. "Now you're just trying to lure me with my political as well as my personal desires."

"Yes." L'Rell didn't miss a beat. "Is it working?" 

Despite herself, Kat laughed again. "Do you have any idea what Starfleet would do to me if they found out I’d slept with the chancellor of the Klingon empire while I was supposed to be here on peace negotiations?" 

"I know they will not execute you." L'Rell tossed her head. "'The Federation does not have the death penalty.'"

"Fine, fine - typical interrogator, throwing my words back in my face." Kat sighed and shook her head. L’Rell wasn’t wrong, though. And her pride in having that answer ready was damnably charming. "May I stand up?" 

"I will not prevent you." L'Rell watched her for a long moment, a challenge bright in her eyes, and as Kat rose to her feet, L'Rell stood, too, so that they were... well, they would have been face to face, if Kat were taller. As it was, she had a very good view of L'Rell's chin and neck, and the uncomfortable, lingering frisson of her breastplate brushing Kat's breasts as she stood. Heat rose from L'Rell's skin, and the smell of leather and something dark, musky, and not entirely unlike lilac was starting to make Kat feel ever so slightly lightheaded at this proximity. "But I will ask again, in a way you perhaps cannot put off so easily. Do you find me attractive?"

"I'm not sure that's a question we should be..."

A warm, callused hand cupped her cheek, and then the tip of one talon traced the line of her jaw. "Answer the question."

It should have been easy to say no. Even if it wasn’t the truth, it was the kind of expedient lie that a diplomat – let alone a psychologist – should always have been able to summon. But the words stuck in Kat’s throat.

The talon on her jaw trailed down her neck, following a tendon, and L’Rell’s eyes followed it, then paused as the pads of her fingers rested on Kat's carotid artery. It felt like a threat, but wasn't -- that much, she could see in L'Rell's gaze, which flicked back up to hers and then held, waiting, clear and gray and curious.

A year and a half ago, it would have been impossible to admit attraction to a Klingon. Impossible to feel it, while she watched people she'd known cut down and trampled around her like so many weeds. When she herself had come so close to death, and lost so much. But none of that was L'Rell's fault. She’d just been a soldier, like so many others. Blaming L’Rell would have meant that the war would never end, and that wasn’t something Kat was willing to risk. It was time to forgive, and make peace.

 _Did_ she find L'Rell attractive? The fact that her heart was pounding could have been latent association from her imprisonment, but it wasn't. The dizzy feeling at her nearness and her touch could have been fear, but it wasn't. Kat knew her own mind and body well enough to identify the signs, even if she didn't quite understand the reason for them before. L'Rell was beautiful, certainly, in one of the most alien ways that she had ever seen, but beauty didn't always translate into attraction. And yet.

"Yes," she said. "But--"

It perhaps should not have surprised Kat quite as much as it did when L’Rell shut her up by kissing her. Some of the surprise came from the simple fact of the kiss itself — that was enough, certainly, to be a bit of a shock. More of it, however, came from the details of the kiss. From the firmness of L’Rell’s lips, but also the softness of them. From the fact that her breath was surprisingly clean, if far from the minty-freshness that she would expect of a Human. From that leather-musk-lilac-resin smell that enveloped her in L'Rell's embrace. And, quite simply, the fact that the kiss was a little rough, but entirely pleasant. 

After a long moment L’Rell broke the kiss, but lingered, her face close, breathing the same air. Breathing each others breath, Kat thought, and wondered how intentional, how culturally significant, that might be. Or was it just that they were standing so close that this was their natural position?

L’Rell blinked slowly and seemed pleased, her hands settling on Kat’s hips. “You talk too much.”

“Professional hazard. And... in a situation like this, I prefer overcommunicating to the reverse. What does this mean?”

“’Mean?’” 

“Are there cultural expectations that I should be aware of, or—”

With a surprisingly soft chuckle, L’Rell bent — nearly doubled, if Kat was honest about the difference in their heights — and tasted the skin just above the collar of Kat’s uniform. “Are you asking if you will be my mate once we’ve had sex?”

“Not exactly, but I had heard some rumors like that through the xenoanthropology grapevine. And I wanted to be sure, before anything happened.”

“I am not looking for a consort, however tempting the prospect.” L’Rell nudged her collar aside, then began pulling at the fabric, trying to gain more access to bare skin. “And I will not go away with you. I belong here, and I am no one’s pet.”

“I know.” Kat squirmed. Her arms were trapped, and L’Rell was making no progress except in stretching the collar of her jacket and making the situation worse. “Here, you’re not -- there’s a zipper.”

“A what?”

“It’s — hold on, just let me.” 

L’Rell drew back slightly and watched with incisive eyes as Kat unzipped her uniform jacket -- she’d only have to see that once, Kat was sure, before she could do it herself without hesitation. The fact that Kat was already assuming she’d have another chance was a whole other thing she didn’t want to think about just yet. As soon as the jacket was unzipped L’Rell was there again, her mouth on Kat’s collarbone and her hands already finding their way up under her tank top. 

“I won’t make any demands for... fidelity or long-term associations,” Kat said, feeling stupidly dense and dizzy for insisting on the clarification, and yet unable not to say it, “if you won’t.”

Another soft chuckle, almost a snort. Well, Kat had to admit that the wording had been a little formal, particularly given the fact that L’Rell’s hands were all over her back, and already headed toward the clasp of her bra. 

“Then there is no reason that, when you are here, we cannot be together if we both want. When we both want. And for as long as we both want. Or not,” L’Rell added; entirely pragmatic and intentionally casual. “As you prefer.”

“And you’re—you—” Annoyed with herself, Kat took a breath. _Count to ten if you can’t make your brain work properly…_ “You want this?”

“Did I not already make that clear?” L’Rell shoved her thigh in between Kat’s legs, and lifted her chin in something like a challenge and an acknowledgement together.

“Well, you are the one who’s still fully dressed, and wearing a lot of armor.”

“And whose fault is that?” The smirk returned. “Is this how Humans are with lovers? Always questioning, always doubting? I would not have thought it of you, at least.”

The memories that Kat would have preferred to live without rose up again. She should have asked more questions of Gabriel. She should have made sure of him before she went to his bed, rather than presuming on the trust and care for each other that they’d always had. She should have realized that if she had the slightest doubt about his mental stability, it wasn’t the time to revisit old intimacies. But she hadn’t. She’d been lost in the familiarity of them together, and if that was why she was open to the most unfamiliar partner imaginable, well, at least she had no expectations to rely on, here. At least she was taking care to get everything out in the open. 

“It’s called ‘enthusiastic consent,’” Kat replied with a flash of teeth and bravado that lit something strange and a bit predatory and _very_ appealing in L’Rell’s eyes. “Also, I have no better idea how to deal with your armor than you had of how to undo my jacket. So this is just as much your fault as mine, since you had to know that.”

L’Rell laughed, then grabbed Kat’s hand and lifted it to the part of her armor just under her left arm, where she felt a catch of sorts, followed by another an inch or so down, and so on down to her hip. Bit by bit, Kat undid the breastplate, and found that the shoulder plates came off easily once that was detached, followed by what looked like a tunic made of the same faintly iridescent white leather, which L’Rell shrugged easily out of and tossed aside. What remained was an undershirt not entirely unlike Kat’s own, although covering more skin and made of a sheer fabric woven with silvery filigree — a light, mobile chainmail of sorts that allowed the skin to breathe, but protected it from the heavier armor and, presumably, deflected some of the kinetic energy of a blow. Without the armor, the heat of L’Rell’s skin seemed to roll off her, almost dizzying in its intensity, and the almost-lilac scent Kat had noticed earlier was stronger, and mixed with a tang of metal, leather, and clean sweat. 

Kat slipped her hands up under L’Rell’s undershirt and across smooth skin covering steel-hard muscle. One of L’Rell’s hands, meanwhile, made its way up her back and into her hair, where her fingers combed for a moment, uncertain, and then gave an light, experimental scratch, followed by a twisting clasp at the base of her skull. 

Her head back a bit. “Okay. That right there is good... really good.” She swallowed, uncannily aware of the weight of L’Rell’s gaze on her throat, and unexpectedly turned on by it. “But don’t pull or scratch _too_ much harder than that. The hair is attached, and can hurt if it’s pulled too much. Especially if it’s just a few hairs at a time. Grasping more like you’re doing is better. And Human scalps bleed a lot if they’re cut or scraped. Which, for the record, I’m not really into during sex.”

“Understood.”

The purr in that voice, more tigress than housecat, was probably illegal in at least six sectors. If it wasn’t, Kat might have to look into suggesting legislation when she got back to Federation space.

“A little could be okay, if that’s something you really want. But I’d prefer not on the head.”

“It is not necessary.”

Well, that was nice to know. Though the implication that it might be desirable was… interesting. And a little unnerving. As were the ridges of… was it cartilage? Something, anyway, that ran up L’Rell’s back. Kat stroked them lightly. “You’re going to have to let me know if I’m going about this the right way.”

“You won’t hurt me,” L’Rell assured her, amused, as if that could possibly be a realistic concern on Kat’s part.

 _Of course not; you’re nearly twice my size, probably half my age, and apparently all muscle._ “I meant whether anything I’m doing feels good.”

“Ah.” Slowly, deliberately, L’Rell trailed a talon behind Kat’s right ear, down her neck, and down her chest to the edge of her bra. “Like this?”

A pleasurable shudder ran up Kat’s spine. “Yes.”

“Mm. You will know.”

“We can’t necessarily count on each other to react the way others of our own species—”

“No.” L’Rell leaned in close against her ear, and licked the lobe. “You will know because I do not intend to keep my reactions quiet.” Then her right hand touched the back of Kat’s bra… and fumbled as she tried to figure out the apparently-unfamiliar garment. 

“How do I—”

“I’ll get it.” Kat unhooked the bra, then shrugged out of it and the tank top at the same time and tossed them aside. 

L’Rell did the same with her own undershirt… and then hesitated again, her talons light on Kat’s skin as she paused a few inches away. Something uncertain had come into her eyes, and she seemed… ‘afraid’ wouldn’t do her justice. But she no longer looked nearly as confident as she had only a moment before.

“We can stop, if you’re not comfortable,” Kat said. “Now, or anytime.”

“It is not that.” L’Rell tipped her head down, then looked back up at Kat. “I was thinking… how much I misunderstood, before. I thought I knew your kind. I was wrong.”

“I thought I knew yours.”

A soft chuckle rolled between them. “Your knowing was not as wrong as mine.”

“Maybe not.” Kat thought of… pretty much everything she’d ever thought about the Klingons. Especially the part where she’d agreed to blow up their planet. “But I suspect we both have a lot still to learn.”

“Perhaps this would be unwise,” L’Rell said, her voice oddly soft and rueful.

 _’Unwise’ is sleeping with your friend for old times’ sake even though you have an instinct that he’s not the same anymore_ , Kat thought. _It’s telling him you know he lied on his psych evals and you’re going to have him removed from his command, then immediately going off on a dangerous mission without telling anyone what you suspect, and then, when you claw your way back, agreeing to be a party to genocide because you’re pissed and scared._ Then again, it was also putting your boyfriend through major surgery and a personality implant without anesthesia, then sending him off to be a sleeper agent among your enemies and just sort of trusting that things would go okay somehow. Or walking openly down the corridors of a ship whose captain didn’t trust you, along with the prisoner you were supposed to be interrogating. _So at least we’re well-matched when it comes to making unwise life choices..._

Kat reached back into her long-ago clinical practice for a more helpful response than ‘It wouldn’t be the stupidest thing either of us have done this year, by a long stretch.’ “What makes you say that?” 

“We are too different.” L’Rell’s expression had closed off so much from how she had looked just a moment before, and her eyes, which had been so intent, now refused to meet Kat’s. “It may cause problems for both of us. Also, I might hurt you.”

“Well, I don’t plan on being hurt. If I get a scratch or bruise or two, that’s fine, and I’ll let you know if you’re headed in a direction that will do serious damage. As long as you stop, then, we’ll be fine. As for the rest of it…” She sighed. “You’re not wrong. It could cause problems. Starfleet won’t like it much, if they hear, and neither, I’m sure, will your council. But I wasn’t exactly planning to put this in my official report. Were you?”

L’Rell gave a soft laugh. “No.”

“Okay, then. So that leaves us being different.” Kat looked L’Rell up and down. The ridges of cartilage that ran up and down her stomach and chest were strange, to be sure, but, relieved of her armor she looked… not exactly more human, but a good deal less intimidating. Not vulnerable, exactly, but… well, a little. Just in the eyes. “We’re different. But I don’t think we’re too different. Not unless you’ve changed your mind.”

"No." L'Rell lifted her chin, defiant. "The council will not choose who I take to my bed.”

With that, almost before Kat had time to process that the decision had been made – certainly before she had time to wonder whether it had been wise of her to allow this particular decision to be the one they arrived at – L’Rell shoved her back against the wall and kissed her again, hard.

_Somehow, I didn’t expect that decision to be made quite so easily…_

And yet, as she sank into the heat of L’Rell’s embrace, she couldn’t regret it. After all they’d been through in the last year and a half, they both deserved to have _something_ come easily. If, even in the most generous of universes, two former enemies coming together for something better than war or recrimination could be called easy, then they deserved it. 

Starfleet and the council of houses might find out. Or they both might come to regret the wisdom of this decision for other, even more complicated and terrible reasons. Something might happen that set them back on the path toward open war, and they wouldn’t be able to stop it before even more unforgivable, unalterable harm was done on either side. For now, though, she wanted to forget about that possibility. She’d spent the last year second-guessing everything, holding herself aloof from every possibility of physical release because of what had happened with the false Gabriel, and somehow it seemed right that what finally pushed her over the edge was the woman she’d met because of his betrayal. 

It might not be wise. It might prove, in time, to have been a mistake. But, by god, they would enjoy it.


End file.
